


Man of the Sky

by penny



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-16
Updated: 2011-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The Mist only knew what he gave her. Perhaps nothing, but there was tenderness in her eyes when she looked at him. Trust. Sometimes even admiration. He did enjoy that look.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Man of the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suzume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Woman of the Wood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/139456) by [Suzume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume). 



He felt so young around Fran, even younger than he had felt in Archades, amongst the Judges, in his father's home. Fran had left the Wood before his father had been a babe, or so he gathered from the old hands in Balfonheim. Amazing the stories they'd tell in exchange for a drink. He had found the chattiest of the bunch -- a sea pirate with his head shaved bald, a grey beard, and a jagged scar down his left cheek -- and had plied him with the Whitecap's best. "That Viera with the bow and brown-tipped ears? She goes by Fran. Been around a long time, longer than me." He set his tankard down and wiped foam from his lip with the back of his hand. "She's a loner. Be careful. She'll chew up a young pup like you."

"I only look a boy just past his first shave." He signaled for another round for his informant and rose.

"The pirate speaks true," Fran said as he approached, not turning from her perch in the window.

"You've been around a long time?" He kept his tone light.

She tilted her head back, swiveled an ear towards him. She did have lovely ears, white with brown tips, the fur fine and -- he stilled his hand -- likely soft. He wondered what it felt like, if her white hair was just as soft. It flowed like the sea outside, the waves blindingly white in the sun. She looked like she could launch herself from the window and take to the sky. And that...that was not like the Viera in the stories he heard as a boy.

A boy on his father's knee. Best not think about that life. It wasn't his anymore.

"And I go by Fran," she said, a welcome intrusion on his thoughts.

"And _I_ ," he said, bowing even though she still stared out the window, "go by Balthier."

"Balthier," she said, as if testing the name.

"It's the name of a bold sky pirate, fierce and free."

She made a soft scoffing sound. "The name matters not." She turned and considered him, her yellow eyes serious, and now she looked more like a Viera from his father's stories, rooted and wise, a strong oak with years of experience.

And he was but an acorn. An acorn dropped in Archades. He no longer called it home, but he could not deny the influence of its soil. He would not back down, tuck tail like some young pup. "True." He let one corner of his mouth curl up in a smirk. "A man is defined by his actions. And a Viera by hers, I suspect."

She tilted her head to one side. "A Viera is defined by the Wood. Without the Wood, we drift and must find our way alone in this world. 'Tis wide, and here is much to see. A blessing, then, that our life is so long."

"You should see the world from the sky, then. It's both wide and small and ripe for the picking." And she belonged in it. He'd noticed the way the sky, the airships, held her attention.

She straightened up. "Are you propositioning me?"

"Well." He fussed with his cuffs. "I could use a partner, and you seem the sort who belongs up there." He gestured to the sky, open and blue today, not even the high, thin clouds common this time of year. "What say I show you my ship?"

She raised her eyebrows. "And if I follow, will you lead me to the aerodrome or to one of the rooms above?"

"To the aerodrome, of course."

She rose. "Very well, little bird. Show me your ship."

"Excellent. The _Strahl_ is the finest airship you'll see, and she's piloted by the finest captain."

"Quite a boast. We shall see how you measure." She strode past him before he could respond. Just as well. He did not have a quick reply.

At least the _Strahl_ spoke for herself. She was an impressive ship. And Fran had an impressive eye. "She has been modified," she said after a long examination. They stood on the starboard side, and her back was to him, both hands pressed tight against the ship. "By your hand?"

Balthier wasn't sure, but he thought her eyes were closed. Her head was slightly tilted, both ears curled towards the ship, like it was speaking to her.

"Not solely. I had Moogle help."

She walked down the length of the ship. "You have found her true form."

More like hidden her true form, but no need to correct her. "Like I said, she's the finest ship you'll see."

"You also said she is piloted by the finest captain."

"Who needs a partner."

She turned to face him. "There is a mark in Bhujerba. What better way to take measure of each other than a hunt?"

He'd seen that bill. A bit above his skill, but Fran carried herself with confidence, and another pirate with an alcohol-loosened tongue said she had rescued him from a shield wyrm on the Cerobi Steppe. An acceptable risk, then. "We can leave in the morning."

Fran was amazing. The mark went down easy, and the bounty filled both of their purses, and apparently he measured up enough, because Fran mentioned another mark, and then another, and then they'd been together for months, first as partners, then as lovers, and then...and then Fran was everything. He could not imagine life without her. She gave him strength.

The Mist only knew what he gave her. Perhaps nothing, but there was tenderness in her eyes when she looked at him. Trust. Sometimes even admiration. He did enjoy that look.

Balthier ran his thumbs over the _Strahl's_ controls. They had so many options now. Should they go after marks or treasure? West to Dalmasca or south to Jahara? Or perhaps down to the Phon Coast? "Where are we heading to next, Fran?"

She made a low sound. A chuckle, perhaps. He had yet to hear her laugh. "That decision should belong to you." She leaned back from the navigation panel, gave him a sidelong glance. "Are you not the captain of this vessel?"

The _Strahl_ hummed beneath them, as eager for the the sky as him. As them. He considered Fran, the way her ear curled towards him. Was she listening to the rapid beat of his pulse? Could she measure his excitement and his fear with her senses, all keener than his. Or was she listening to the Mist? Straining for a whisper from the Wood?

No. She'd left. She had told him the Wood no longer spoke to her. What reason did she have to lie? The Wood was not Archades. He could take her at her word.

And by her word, he was her captain, and she was his partner. "I..." He tightened his grip on the controls. The _Strahl_ quivered. "I suppose I am."

He had not thought she was tense, but the line of her shoulder loosened. "The little bird has found his voice." She looked to the horizon, her expression softening, though she kept one ear cocked towards him, attentive. He was learning to read her. Slowly. "Listen to him chirp."

Ah, a challenge. He took the _Strahl_ up with a firm hand. "I'm not chick, Fran. Soon enough you'll see, I'll be the leading man."

"That may be." Fran reached for her control. "For now, the captain would be wise to chirp our destination to his navigator."

"Tweet tweet." He smiled, dipped them starboard so Balfonheim's port opened beneath them. "We head to the Phon Coast. I hear there's a rare game Hunt Club there. Good way to build up one's skills."

"As you say, captain." She plotted their course. The route blossomed on the map panel before him.

He guided the _Strahl_ onto its route. He may be young in comparison to Fran, but in the sky, they were equals. He released the _Strahl's_ aft wings and felt something loosen between his shoulders. The _Strahl_ gave him freedom, gave Fran freedom, and gave him the confidence to take them higher, up into the sun's glare. He listened for Fran's little sigh of pleasure or surprise or something he'd learn to identify in time. She was a leading lady, after all. She deserved a leading man worthy of her.


End file.
